


Death by Chocolate

by Severina



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: hardtime100
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cupcakes were small, just a little bigger than bite-sized. Some chocolate, some vanilla, and all topped with creamy strawberry icing and a dash of multi-coloured sprinkles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death by Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Season Four AU. And Crack. YAY CRACK.  
> Prompt 15: Creative Weaponry (LJ's Hardtime100 Community)

"Poet, we need some more noodles," O'Reily said.

"So?"

"So get your fat ass to the back and get some."

"You know, slavery got abolished, like, a long fucking time ago, man," Poet grumbled as he tossed his knife on the counter and strolled to the back, mumbling curses about O'Reily's dubious parentage as he went. He tucked a family-sized box of pasta under his arm, kicked one of the mouse traps out of the way, and was halfway back to the front before he spotted the long pink and white bakery boxes stacked on the wire shelves.

He set the fusilli down next to them; looked around suspiciously before carefully opening one of the boxes and peering inside.

The cupcakes were small, just a little bigger than bite-sized. Some chocolate, some vanilla, and all topped with creamy strawberry icing and a dash of multi-coloured sprinkles.

Poet smiled. "It ain't even my birthday," he murmured.

He cast another look around. Not a creature was stirring… well, not counting the mice. He carefully poked his hand into the box, withdraw a vanilla cupcake, shoved it into his mouth and swallowed it whole.

He surreptitiously wiped his mouth on his arm before sticking his head out the doorway.

"Yo," he called out, "we got cupcakes."

Junior looked up. "No shit?"

"Give them to me," Adebisi said, stalking forward.

"They're not yours, Adebisi," Officer Creighton said sharply. He quickly exchanged a look with his partner before stepping hastily to the back and sorting through the boxes.

"What you want us to do with 'em?" Poet asked.

Creighton shrugged. "Give them out during lunch. One cupcake to every prisoner."

* * *

"Robson," Schillinger said brusquely, "what the fuck are you doing?"

Robson looked across the table, the treat poised near his lips. "Eating my cupcake, Vern?"

"Before your meal," Schillinger said dryly.

"Yeah." Robson shrugged and shoved the cupcake into his mouth. "Good," he said around a mouthful of cake and icing. "Moist."

Schillinger made a face. "You're disgusting, Robson."

Robson grinned, showing off teeth smeared with strawberry icing. "It's gooey inside," he finally said when his mouth was empty. "Like when you get those chocolates with the liquor inside? Rum and shit."

"Yeah," Schillinger snorted. "I'm sure the board of corrections is issuing us liquor filled cupcakes."

"Well, it's something," Robson said. He prodded at the greyish meat loaf lying in a puddle of congealing gravy with his fork before pushing his tray abruptly away. "Yours has a little candy heart," he pointed out. He eyed Schillinger's cupcake wantonly; reached out a tentative hand. "You gonna eat it, Vern?"

"Yes! Keep your fucking hands to yourself!"

By the time Schillinger was finished his meal, half of the cafeteria had already been cleaned out and most of the inmates had headed back to their cells or their work details. He leaned back in his chair and belched in satisfaction before reaching over to take the cupcake from his tray.

Robson licked his lips.

"Oh for fucks sake," Schillinger said. "You want the candy heart?"

Robson smiled. "Yes please."

Schillinger shook his head before flicking the small sugar heart in Robson's direction. He didn't pay attention to Robson crunching the candy; he was too busy tipping his head back and stuffing the cupcake into his mouth. He bit down, felt the juicy filling flood his mouth… and started to gag.

"Vern?"

Schillinger clawed at his neck, his throat convulsing spasmodically.

"VERN?"

* * *

"Can someone please explain to me how _battery acid_ got into a fucking cupcake?" Glynn barked out.

McManus looked at Murphy. Murphy looked at LoPresti. LoPresti looked at Howell.

"How the fuck should we know?" Howell said.

"All right, then who ordered them?" Glynn said. He paced the length of the office. "You can't tell me that mini-cupcakes are standard on the prison menu."

For a moment, no one spoke. Finally McManus cleared his throat. "They can't find the requisition order."

"Great," Glynn sighed. "Just great. Who had access to the cupcakes?"

"All the low-life fucks who work the kitchen. Who do you think?" Howell said.

"Both CO's swear that the cupcakes came in flat boxes and went immediately onto the line," McManus said quickly. "None of the prisoners were alone with them."

"Yeah," Howell snorted. "Right."

"Creighton and Somerville are good officers," McManus said, with a pointed look at Howell, before turning back to the warden. "I believe them."

Glynn rubbed a hand over his jaw. "So it was an outside job."

"Maybe," Murphy put in. He glanced at McManus. Shrugged. "Sounds like it."

McManus nodded. "We've already contacted the state control board and the DEA. They're issuing a press release and recalling all of the Doubly Delicious Mini Cupcakes manufactured or distributed in the tri-state area."

Glynn leaned against his desk; closed his eyes and pinched his nose. "At least they can't blame this one on us," he sighed. "Schillinger was just the unfortunate victim of some sick character on the outside."

McManus shifted a little. "Is he going to make it?"

Glynn looked up. "They pronounced him half an hour ago," he said. "Vern Schillinger's dead."

"Huh," Murphy said.

McManus pressed his lips together. "Shame?" he tried.

* * *

"Did you hear the news?" Rebadow asked, pausing by their table in the quad. "Schillinger's dead."

O'Reily shifted lazily in his chair. "Really," he said.

"Interesting," Beecher said. He hesitated a second longer before finally removing his hand from his knight.

Keller rubbed a finger over his lips, squinted, and regarded the chess game intently. "You don't say," he said distractedly.

O'Reily picked up one of the discarded chess pieces and rubbed it absently between his fingers. Cyril, always present by his side, dreamily hummed the Miss Sally theme song.

"You know," Beecher mused after a long moment, "chocolate cupcakes are my favourite."

Keller's lips upturned just slightly. "Glad you liked 'em, Beech," he said. He leaned forward and tipped the king. "Checkmate."


End file.
